


Strangers

by Magi_Silverwolf



Series: Pings of the Heart [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Warehouse 13
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Addiction Recovery, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Living Status Mistakes, Mentions of Connected Media, Series Spoilers, Unintentional Harm to a Child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 07:30:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10589310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magi_Silverwolf/pseuds/Magi_Silverwolf
Summary: Harry settled into a new life at the Warehouse, and even adding new agents to the staff didn’t disrupt things too much. Then someone took Artie—Harry acts before anyone could even think to stop him. Artie washis, and he was going to get himback. Claudia understands that kind of dedication. After all, it’s why she took Artie in the first place.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note(s): This piece has kind of ran away from me. When I set out writing it, I wasn’t expecting it to end up so long. Nor did I expect it to end the way that it did. I had a fluffier ending in mind. It wasn’t until I was writing the ending that I realize that I wasn’t going to get that particular ending quite yet because that wasn’t where the characters were taking it. The good news is this means I already have a rough idea of what is going to happen in the next piece of the series.   
> As a final note: This piece mentions things from the show Alphas, a related canon of Warehouse 13. No plot point of the show is being used, just the basic premise of the show which is that there exists individuals with various congenital abilities that give them certain advantages over the majority of humanity and there are groups who gather these individuals to utilize those abilities for various ends.
> 
> Song Recommendation(s): “Between Two Lungs” by Florence + the Machine; “War” by Poets of the Fall; “Tears of an Angel” by RyanDan
> 
> Timeline Clarification: Due to dissonance in ages and time elapses given throughout the Warehouse 13 series, there are some slight divergences going to be present for the lead characters. Claudia Donovan is twenty-two when she kidnaps Artie, matching the timeline originally given, instead of the seventeen/freshly eighteen that she would have to be in order to celebrate her twenty-first birthday when she did. Details on other characters are currently still being settled.

Part 02: Strangers

-= LP =-

"It ain’t a question of _if_ , just a matter of time." – “Stand Out” from _A Goofy Movie_

-= LP=-

 

Harry jerked awake, still tangled in his nightmare as much as he was his blanket. He lay in his bed shuddering as he worked through the steps that Leena had given him to calm his aura. Like a mantra, he recited the Warehouse’s location on the North American Grid. It was comforting enough to know that he was in a different country on a different continent from the Dursleys that the knowledge always helped him shed the lingering terror of a nightmare—at least enough for him to brave the dark hallway to Artie’s room, if need be.

 

Harry still was not completely used to being able to wake up someone if he wanted comfort from a nightmare, and even asking at all was far different from his life before coming to the Warehouse, but Artie and Leena insisted it was alright and preferable to the alternative. Since the alternative involved the Warehouse attempting to comfort him in ways that usually involved artifacts, Harry understood why they insisted. He tried to keep it to a minimum, because he didn’t want to annoy Artie, but sometimes, he couldn’t help it—and Harry knew that Artie would be more annoyed about having to clean up neutralizer than he would be about Harry crawling into his bed for a snuggle. But Harry was almost nine now, and even if he didn’t go to school with the other kids in Univille, he still knew that snuggles were for babies.

 

He still wanted one, though.

 

Artie muttered his name when Harry crawled in beside him. Still mostly asleep, the older man let Harry snuggle in without more than half-formed words of meaningless comfort. Harry didn’t mind that Artie wasn’t worried about the late-night visit. It was preferable to the full alert he had gone into when Harry first arrived at the Warehouse. Leena had explained that artifacts could be dangerous far more thoroughly than Artie ever had—and how Artie had outlasted many people handling them by sheer grit. In the thirty-five years Artie had been working for the Warehouse, there had been a total of twenty-eight agents employed there. Currently, there was just Artie. Harry could appreciate why Artie used to prepare for battle every time Harry woke him up in the middle of the night—and it made him appreciate that Artie didn’t now even more.

 

Listening to Artie’s breathing return to his deep sleep pattern, Harry mulled over how Mrs. Fredric had announced that they were going to get new agents soon. It worried him as much as it was a relief. New agents would mean that Artie was not going to be going out in the field as much, which Harry saw as a good thing because both Leena and Artie had stressed that _artifacts were dangerous_ so many times that Harry had no doubt that even the coolest things could end up doing something bad. Living at the Warehouse with Artie also meant that Harry understood that even the safety protocols could fail to successfully neutralize a misbehaving artifact.

 

While Mrs. Fredric had clearly stated that Harry was never going back to the Dursleys, Harry wasn’t certain if that would still hold true if something happened to Artie or if they managed to get his mother’s artifact off him. Or even worse: if they found out that his freakishness went deeper than sensing auras. Over the months, Harry had met with the Doctor several times, and some of those visits had taken place at her clinic. That gave him an opportunity to meet her other patients and their various keepers. Harry shivered at the thought of the so-called alphas and thanked the Dursleys for teaching him to keep secrets tightly locked inside himself. As long as Artie was safe and Harry was connected to the necklace, he was guaranteed to be kept at the Warehouse and not sent back to the Dursleys or into the care of the alpha programs. Artie was the one in charge of Harry, no matter how much bigger Mrs. Frederic was, so Harry knew that his sanctuary at the Warehouse was dependent upon the grumpy teddy bear.

 

Maybe Leena would be willing to keep him; she did seem to like him and she was really nice whenever they had their lessons. She watched him while Artie was on missions already, so keeping him full-time wouldn’t be too much of a burden. She also appreciated Harry’s help with the B&B chores even if she looked really sad watching him do them, which was beyond weird. If that didn’t work out, Harry had backup plans that he’d been preparing just in case something went wrong—hiding from the Warehouse would be much harder than hiding from her agents, but Harry knew that she would be on his side if it came down to it.

 

New agents also meant that there was someone else to possibly hurt Artie, though. It meant new people to care for and to lose. Harry could see how hard that was for Artie, even if he himself had never really experienced it. It was obvious in the way Artie would explode at the thought of him getting hurt, even in their first meeting. Through Leena, Harry had heard about agents dying, or disappearing, or suffering fates worse than death. He had learned about just how many times Artie had had to walk away from the artifact user adjacent victims, because the artifact was the mission, not the people. Harry’s presence at the Warehouse was an abnormality and even after the ten months he had been in South Dakota, he remained uncertain if he was there because his ability made him useful or because the necklace refused to be removed or neutralized. New agents brought with them the possible answer to that question.

 

Harry pressed his ear against Artie’s chest. Taking a deep breath, he let his guardian’s natural scent of chamomile and mint chase away his worries about the future and its possibility of a return to the past. There was no sense in borrowing trouble before it was due, after all.  The future would be here soon enough.

 

-= LP =-

 

“You should duck,” Harry announced after a few minutes of watching the new agent wander around outside the Warehouse from his hiding spot. The man twisted on the balls of his feet, narrowly managing to avoid the football as it hit the side of the Warehouse. Harry noted the tiny burst as it updated its findings with the cortex. There was definitely something there, meaning that the new agents were going to be leaving for at least a couple days despite having just arrived. “You’re quick on your feet, Mr. Lattimer. That’ll help with things.”

 

Before Lattimer could do more than sputter at him, a car rounded the curve leading towards Univille. Harry watched as the two agents exchanged information and barbs, paying more attention to their respective presences than their words. Lattimer was definitely here to stay. His aura was already being pulled towards the Warehouse’s, being defined and reshaped by it. Bering worried Harry. She was prickly—not quite as sharply cruel as Aunt Petunia, but extra defensive like cocklebur hairs. Harry would bet a trip into the Spiral that she would be snarky and critical. She was just too tidy to be anything else.

 

“Artie will be back soon,” Harry interrupted, drawing Bering’s attention for the first time. He gave her the grin that always got Dudley out of trouble. Her prickly aura flexed slightly, making him wince, before coiling tightly about her skinny frame. She was _definitely_ a cocklebur. “He meant to be here, but he had to fix the FISH. It was acting up. I’d let you in, but I’m not allowed in the Warehouse without either Artie or Leena right now.”

 

“Is that where we are? The Warehouse? What Warehouse? What does it do?”

 

“Oh, you didn’t get the welcome speech?” Harry quipped at Bering, knowing that she had because Mrs. Fredric wouldn’t have skipped it, no matter how rushed she was. Mrs. Fredric loved to make the speech. It also gave her a chance to do a final feel of a potential agent. “This is the world of endless wonder you’re entering. Officially, it’s K39ZZ on the North American Grid, but Artie likes to call it America’s Attic. It’s really more of the world’s attic, but he’s American; he’s allowed his foibles.”

 

“We’re all allowed our quirks, Harry,” Artie said. Both agents did about-faces. The device to summon the FISH gave a whine of protest as the Custodian juggled it while taking off his gear. Harry noted Bering wince at the sound even as he did himself. Artie pointed at him before pointing down to the ground. “Down from there before I make you clear the neutralizer tubes, young man.”

 

“Didn’t Leena say that I wasn’t allowed to do it anymore?”

 

“Just get down,” Artie said with a sigh. Harry jumped from the top of the concrete base of the pylons nearest the door. He landed just a bit off, but his necklace fixed the ache of the twist just as quick as it appeared. Artie’s lips thinned in that way that meant he had noticed even if Harry didn’t want him to know. The man always knew when an artifact was working around him; it was his quirk along with his knack at finding things. Lattimer jumped into the space between them with a spike of presence that blazed through Harry’s senses like lightning.

 

“You! It was you!” Turning to Bering, Lattimer explained in rapid fire phrases how Artie had taken the Aztec bloodstone that was currently waiting to be processed by Leena. Not that Lattimer knew that last part, but Harry did, intimately. The stupid thing was why he wasn’t allowed to be alone in the Hub or Artie’s apartment currently. Like a lot of artifacts in the Warehouse (and the Warehouse _itself_ ), the bloodstone _liked_ him, and attempted to latch onto Harry’s presence any time it wasn’t distracted trying to entice other people to touch it.

 

“Do you ever finish a sentence?” Harry asked, interrupting the weird half communication that was happening between the two agents. Both turned towards him, but it was Bering who responded.

 

“Even a child has better grammar than you do,” she snarked. She waved a perfectly manicured hand in Harry’s direction while the other one pointed a finger at Lattimer’s chest. Artie rolled his eyes and gestured Harry over to the door. Harry scurried over to his guardian’s side to silently take the summoner so that Artie could herd the agents into the Warehouse.

 

“Come on in. Don’t be shy. I made cookies.”

 

“ _You_ made them?”

 

“Oh, you little—“ Artie cut himself off as Bering looked like she was going to whack him on the head. Harry was glad that Artie couldn’t sense the auras of people as well as he could pick up on the auras of artifacts. Bering’s prickles had become stabby when Artie had started his grumbling. Half of Harry was annoyed by this—after all, grumbling was how Artie showed his affection—but the other half had a warm, toasty feeling that she was willing to be defensive of someone she had just met. Even acknowledging that it could have been only because he was a kid, kindness was a new thing. “As Harry here so helpfully pointed out, when he ruined my mysterious shtick, I did _not_ bake the cookies, something which you will be thankful for down the road. But Leena _did_ , and she bakes very well—especially oatmeal Scotchies.”

 

“They’re really good,” Harry added when Bering hesitated. Lattimer seemed to be bouncing between extremes. He was agitated then calm and then demanding. The shifting aura around him made Harry’s head hurt as he tried to keep up. Harry didn’t like him, no matter that the Warehouse clearly did. Bering was at least stable and orderly for all her pokey-ness. “Leena makes them with only half the sugar, because she knows I don’t like really sweet things. You don’t eat sugar much, but I think you’ll like them, too.”

 

“How do you know that I don’t eat sugar?”

 

“Mrs. Fredric creates really thorough dossiers on potential agents.” Harry finished with a half-shrug. Careful not to dip or lean the summoner, he toed the dirt. Artie huffed in that way the meant Harry was in trouble again. He knew he wasn’t supposed to read the Warehouse files, even though Mrs. Fredric had said it was okay with the Regents. Artie didn’t want him to get any more involved in Warehouse business than he already was, living with an artifact around his neck and taking lessons from Leena on how to control his freakishness (what they knew of it, at least). He just got so _bored_ , and reading was something that was quiet and could be done out of the way. Harry knew that he was probably going to have to clear the neutralizer tubes, regardless of Leena’s stance on the matter. Artie assigned chores as punishments, and with the way that artifacts liked him, inventory was too risky. Harry didn’t mind his chores; Artie was a much easier task-manager than Aunt Petunia any day of the week.

 

Harry startled when a hand settled on his shoulder and pulled him away from Artie’s side and closer to another body. The presence was unfamiliar, soft like down feathers and silky like flower petals. When he looked up, Bering was standing close enough to him that he could smell the larkspur scent that hovered about her like a cloud. She was glaring at Artie with her head tilted at a funny angle. It took him a moment of floundering to realize that somehow she had wrapped her aura around him, all those prickles now directed at his guardian while Harry was safely cocooned. He didn’t mean to, but he burst out laughing at the absurdity of needing protection from the man who had smuggled him out of the country of his birth. His freakishness spiked in response to his mirth, making the device in his hand whine in protest of the conflicting energy.

 

“I like her,” Harry declared, earning a grunt from Artie. The old man just pointed to the open entrance to the Umbilicus. Harry wrapped his free arm around the woman who looked ready to face down a monster like Uncle Vernon. Using the leverage, he urged the much taller agent to follow Artie into the Warehouse. “Come on, Leena also sent up herbal tea to go with the cookies, and you’ll like the Warehouse, once you get used to her. Don’t let Artie’s grumbling get to you. That’s just how he is.”

 

“You’re a kid, remember? You’re supposed to be drinking milk,” Artie grumbled as the group moved into the white tube. “Don’t touch the bombs, Mr. Lattimer.”

 

Lattimer yanked his hand away from the pillar bomb he had been about to touch. Artie barely looked back to see if they were following him. Harry decided to push his luck just a little further than he already was with an arm around Bering’s waist. Bering responded to him leaning in by adjusting her grip to more closely resemble an actual hug. He directed the grin threatening to split his face in half towards the ground. Around him, the Warehouse glowed with shared happiness and the Umbilicus filled with the smell of apple blossoms. Harry was certain that the new agents were going to work out just fine. Artie was finally going to be safe, and Harry would _never_ have to find out if Leena would be willing to keep him around if something happened. The future was just a smidgen more certain that it had been when he had woken up this morning.

 

-= LP =-

 

It started as an echo. Harry ignored the feeling of displacement. He had been feeling it increasingly since shortly after the appointments of Pete and Myka to the Warehouse. It was always worse when Artie fell into one of his zones or dream-states. Harry was worried, though he was hiding that from Artie because he was _not_ supposed to know about the breaches. Like Harry could really be ignorant of it when he lived in the Warehouse and the hacker had managed to gain partial control of Warehouse systems, but Artie wanted Harry kept out it for some reason, so for Artie, Harry would pretend. So when Harry felt Artie slip, Harry only paused to let the shudder run through him before continuing making the beds at the B&B, knowing that the Warehouse would take care of her Custodian.

 

Then he felt like he was being electrocuted again. He could hear the Warehouse herself protesting what was happening within her. Something had pulled her teeth and she was fighting back the only way she knew how. The artifacts were her priority—they had to be—but the Warehouse _liked_ Harry and so she screamed an alarm as her Custodian was first hurt and then stolen from within her protection. Harry felt the energy arcing from his body, and it _hurt_ so much, pain like he hadn’t felt since coming to South Dakota, like something was breaking within him. He was burning and dissolving, being both consumed and doing the consuming. Harry _had_ to act; and it had to be _now_ , fallout be damned. When he opened his eyes, he met Leena’s scared gaze. He spoke a single word before letting his freakishness pull him to the Hub.

 

Harry worked quickly. Leena was probably already contacting Mrs. Fredric or Pete and Myka who were on their way back to the Warehouse after completing their latest mission. They would stop him from hunting down the person who took Artie, would forbid him from being involved in Artie’s rescue, or retrieval, if the worst were to happen. He tried not to think of what he would need to do in that case—it was too big and right now, he could still help Artie. He just had to get the information he needed and be gone before they arrived. It’s not disobedience if there are no commands given. The Warehouse was already running a bit of interference with Mrs. Fredric, keeping the Caretaker distracted and _away_ long enough for Harry to be on his way.

 

He had been too young to save his mother, whatever had happened to her. He may not be an adult yet, but he wasn’t too young any longer. Moreover, the Warehouse agreed. It was why she had called him—why she was rearranging the artifacts so that Harry didn’t have to venture beyond the Hub to find the ones he needed. Artie was _hers_ as much as he was _his_ and they were going to bring him _back_. The others wouldn’t understand, and only partially because he hadn’t shared much about what all he could do with his freakishness. He loved that all of them saw a child to be protected when they looked at him, because it made him feel normal, but Harry knew that he wasn’t a normal child. They would try to stop him, in an attempt to protect him, and Harry couldn’t allow it, not with Artie out there on his own. He had to protect Artie; he had _promised_ , even if only to himself.

 

Finding out that it was Claudia Donovan who took Artie only altered Harry’s plan slightly. There were dossiers on many of the far-flung clan, as it had a tendency to provide a lot of potential agents or have people who ended up with artifacts. Three files for the clan had been near the top when Harry had arrived, two of them earmarked for observation pending recruitment. One of the recruitment files was for a Joshua Donovan and had a status of “missing presumed dead” as of twelve years ago; the other was Joshua’s youngest sister and her status been updated to “institutionalized” six months ago. Harry was reserving judgment on her mental status—understanding that talking about artifacts and their effects could easily sound like insanity to those not in the know on them. The third file in the stack had Claire Donovan in Warehouse custody and just proved both that Donovans had a knack for finding artifacts and that artifacts were dangerous. That Claudia had been present for the events that led to Claire being in Warehouse custody made Harry feel for her. That had to be tough.

 

There was still only so much leniency he was willing to give her, after she had violated his home and had stolen his guardian. The electricity that had hurt him had originally come from Artie, and the Warehouse wouldn’t have been able to transfer all of it with Harry so far away from him. Which meant that Artie had been hurt bad enough that the Warehouse had to interfere to protect him, and while Harry was already nearly completely healed, Artie didn’t have that luxury. Harry could feel the anger of the Warehouse, propelling him onward towards revenge. The emotions fed Harry’s own fear of losing Artie, and then his safe haven from the Dursleys and the robe-wearers who had always found and returned him to them before Artie had gotten him out of Britain. A tight ball of tension within him wanted nothing more than to curl into Artie’s side and breathe deeply of the man’s minty chamomile scent. First Harry had to find him.

 

Bringing up a recent security feed for the lab where Joshua Donovan had last been seen, Harry cast a practiced eye over it before stepping back from Artie’s precious computer system. Things that ran on different types of energy tended to react in slightly unpredictable ways when surges of similar-but-different energy occurred nearby. Artie would be upset if he returned to a computer that needed intensive repairs. Not knowing how much of his reserves he was going to need, Harry borrowed power from the Warehouse to fuel his movement between locations, making the lights dim briefly before returning to full brightness.

 

Harry was already gone when Artie’s Farnsworth began to buzz.

 

-= LP =-

 

Pete’s hands tightened on the steering wheel even as he grimaced. Myka opened her mouth to question her partner only to snap it shut when her phone began to ring. It was Leena’s ringtone, which meant that something was wrong at the B&B. She wanted to tell Pete to turn back towards town, but the man had already picked up speed as they turned off the highway onto the unmarked road that led to the Warehouse. Knowing by now that he was in the grip of a vibe, Myka swiped to unlock her phone and pick up the call. Without hesitation, she put the call on speaker.

 

“What’s wrong?” she answered in lieu of an actual greeting. There had to be something to warrant both Leena’s call and Pete’s vibe.

 

“Something’s happened to Artie,” Leena answered. Her normally serene tone sounded frazzled. She sounded close to tears even. Myka bit her lip hard, letting the pain give her a measure of focus as worry threatened to overwhelm her. It had to be very bad, and while she wasn’t completely certain that she _liked_ Artie, she did like Harry and he had to be upset. Oh, no— _Harry_. “I don’t know what happened. Harry just started _screaming_ and giving off electricity and when he finally stopped, he just said Artie’s name before disappearing. Artie isn’t answering his Farnsworth and if that’s where Harry went, he’s not either.”

 

“What do you mean Harry _disappeared_? I thought all he could do was match Pete’s cookie consumption and sense people’s auras,” Myka demanded. Leena gave a hiccupping sound before answering.

 

“Harry is bonded to an artifact,” Leena explained, which wasn’t new information to the two agents as both had asked why the Warehouse had a kid involved in the organization. Myka also knew from reading the older reports that the artifact was virtually unknown. It was unresponsive to neutralizer and any attempt to destroy it proved futile, and only served to make Harry really agitated. The only thing noted under abilities, though, had been healing and protection. Teleportation didn’t fit. Myka made a noise of acknowledgement. “His guardians before coming to the Warehouse were unappreciative of that, and Harry is very distrustful because of it. To the point that I can’t get a good in-depth read on his aura. We know about his ability to sense auras because he revealed it to Mrs. Fredric and I train him in controlling it, but there is a lot that we don’t know about his capabilities, even after a year of him living here.”

 

“He opens up to Artie, though,” Pete put in as they rounded the last bend and the Warehouse came into view.

 

“Yes,” Leena agreed, “and now something has happened that had Harry frantic enough to reach him that he revealed another ability. His screams were horrible, and Room 5 is going to need repairs from the backlash of whatever feedback Harry was receiving from Artie. How far out are you?”

 

“We’re pulling up to the Warehouse now,” Myka answered. Pete was already getting out of the SUV, his eyes locked on the open door to the Umbilicus. “Oh, god, the door is just hanging open.”

 

Without giving Leena a chance to reply, Myka ended the call and jumped out to back up her partner. This was quickly moving from a potential bout of bad health to something far worse. With the recent breaches in the Warehouse’s security, this could be catastrophic. Neither agent hesitated to pull their side arm instead of the Tesla. Even if just Artie had been in danger, the need to drop multiple combatants judiciously was key. With a child possibly present, it was even more so.

 

It took less than a minute to recognize that the Hub was empty of people. Someone had clearly done a hurried search of the room and several systems. A security feed for what looked to be an abandoned storeroom somewhere had been left up on Artie’s main screen with a pair of Warehouse profiles left up on the secondary. Myka took note of the matching surnames on the files before continuing her scan of the room. A device that Myka didn’t recognize had been abandoned on a stack of paperwork that Artie had been meaning to finish for the last week. There were signs of a struggle, but only two people had been involved. There didn’t seem to be any immediate sign of blood but if the unsub used electricity to subdue Artie, there wouldn’t necessarily be any. Most worryingly was the broken button for the emergency alarm that laid abandoned in the middle of the floor.

 

“Someone took Artie?” Pete asked. He looked helpless as he holstered his weapon. “But where’s Harry? Did they take him, too?”

 

“I don’t think so—but I think Harry’s following them. Somehow, probably through the same way that he left the B&B. But I don’t understand _how_ he knew where to go?”

 

Artie’s Farnsworth buzzed on its stand. Myka made sure to holster her weapon before hitting the button to receive the transmission. Mrs. Fredric appeared on the screen. She looked displeased to see them but not worried. Wasn’t this going to be a pleasant conversation?

 

“I’m calling for Artie,” Mrs. Fredric said simply. “You two are decidedly not he.”

 

“Ah, yeah, about that,” Pete started before Myka cut across him.

 

“Someone took Artie, and we have reason to believe that Harry is either with them or following them.”

 

“That can’t happen,” Mrs. Fredric denied. “The Warehouse would have let me know if it was physically breached—“ Myka held up the disconnected button. The other woman’s face dropped all emotion in shock. Her next question was like a stabbing knife. “Why do you think Harry is with them?”

 

“Leena says he had some kind of weird fit, said Artie’s name, and then disappeared. When we got here, there were signs that someone had been here after whoever took Artie had left, but no Harry. However Harry is moving, it’s not on foot, so he may already have found them.”

 

“What evidence and how long have they been missing?”

 

“Leena called me twenty minutes ago. I don’t know how soon she did so after Harry left her, but judging by the artifact that has been left on Artie’s desk and the files that have been pulled up on Artie’s computer, Harry would have needed at least ten to fifteen minutes, depending on how long it takes the artifact to work. We arrived about seven minutes ago.”

 

“What are the artifact and files?”

 

“Hey, guys, I have eyes on Harry,” Pete interrupted. Myka tore her attention from the Farnsworth to look at Pete. He was pointing at the larger screen. Harry was moving about the room displayed by the security feed. Myka had to give the kid at least some credit; he appeared to be carefully investigating the space. He had his messenger bag with him but he was barefoot, just like he usually was whenever he helped Leena clean the B&B. His hair seemed wilder than it normally was—which Myka supposed made sense with Leena’s story of electricity. As they watched, Harry circled something they couldn’t see due to the angle of the camera before his attention snapped towards the area above the visible door.

 

Whatever had drawn his attention made the feed fill with static, which told her as clearly as a declaration that it was artifact related. Myka could hear Pete and Mrs. Fredric talking about something, but she kept all of her attention on the screen, waiting for it to clear again and keeping measure in her head of the elapsing time. She had to trust that Pete could handle things with the overseer—her skill lay in observation of details and right now, that may be the difference between bringing Harry and Artie home or losing them both. Since their mission with James Braid’s chair, they had come to an unsteady truce. Pete had told her the first night they had a conversation that he specialized in logistics and while she had the training from the Academy, he had military training and experience. Every advantage they could muster, they needed right now.

 

The feed cleared finally, revealing Harry examining a collection of test tubes. Harry turned his head towards the camera as if sensing her watching. His face was just as blank as Mrs. Fredric’s had turned at the sight of the disconnected alarm. Despite the lack of color on the feed, Myka could tell his eyes had to be glowing. The feed turned black even though the window stayed open. Something had to be blocking the camera, but not the transmission. She turned her attention to Pete.

 

“She gave me the location of the Rheticus artifacts and our mission before signing off.”

 

“Our _mission_? We should be helping Artie and Harry!”

 

“It is helping them—apparently Joshua Donovan failed to replicate Rheticus’ experiments with human translocation. We’re to find what he missed and get the information to Artie. Mrs. Fredric thinks that Claudia Donovan is trying to bring back Joshua by replicating his failed experiment or undo whatever it was that made him go missing and she needs Artie to do so. Right now, he’s safe, more or less—no,” he negated when she opened her mouth to argue. She snapped it shut and glared at him. It was water and Pete was a duck for all the good it did. Pete looked so serious and focused. She could practically hear his mind working. “He _is_ , Myks, because Donovan needs him alive, but he’s going to need whatever Joshua missed or it will end in failure again and this time Artie and Harry are involved. So we treat it like we do any mission. Artie normally does the research end anymore, but he is a fully trained field agent. We have to trust that he can take care of himself _and_ Harry.”

 

“Harry’s just a little boy,” she whispered.

 

“I know that Harry seems like a brat, but he _always_ listens to Artie,” Pete countered. Myka allowed her partner to pull her into a hug, despite the unfamiliarity of the comfort. He rubbed her back instead of squeezing tight, like he knew that would be more soothing. Was that a vibe thing or just a Pete thing? “Harry always follows directions and orders. I’m willing to bet it’s why he didn’t answer the Farnsworth for Leena, because she would have told him to stay put. As long as we get what Artie needs, they’ll be fine.”

 

“Then let’s figure it out so that we can go get our wayward handler and brat.”

 

‘ _One step at a time,’_ she reminded herself. _‘Order saves lives, but only if followed. One step at a time.’_

 

-= LP =-

 

Claudia shoved the double doors open and yanked the traitor through them. He went easily but hesitated just within the lab. She kept moving even as she demanded that he come away from the easy escape route. Something was different about the space, but as her eyes swept the setup, she couldn’t see anything out of place.

 

“I’m fine right here.”

 

“Think so?” she questioned as she spun around and pulled the control mechanism for the cuffs from her pocket. Like she expected, the old man immediately gave in and moved away from the lab doors. His hands were held up in the universal sign for patience.

 

“Or there. There is very good, too.” He looked scared, which suited her just fine. As long as he obeyed, she wouldn’t have to risk damaging him. Artie Nielsen was her best bet of saving Joshua. She needed him alive. “You’re doing this all wrong, Claudia—bringing me here in daylight, using my own car? Amateur moves, and for what? Killing me won’t erase Joshua’s accident. He died a long time ago, Claudia. Come on.”

 

“He’s not dead,” she insisted as a tingle ran across her skin. It wasn’t like Joshua’s pull. Her feeling of something being off intensified. She turned away from her captive even as he tried to tell her how terrible the accident was. She shook her head, both to deny his words about Joshua being gone and to clear the dull roaring that seemed to be coming from somewhere and everywhere at the same time. “He’s _not_ and you’re going to see that I’m not crazy.”

 

“You’re only half-right, Donovan.” The voice was harder than any voice she had ever heard and even as she turned towards its speaker, Claudia knew that things were spinning out of her control. When she saw the small child standing on the opposite side of the drawn circle, she relaxed. What could a child do to her, especially a child as young as this one? He couldn’t be older than seven at the outside, going by his scrawniness.

 

She shivered when their eyes met, and she quickly changed her estimation of him. She had seen eyes like that in the bughouse and it never boded well. People with eyes like that were prepared for death, in whatever form it took. Those were dangerous eyes. People with eyes like that were desperate and willing to go to any lengths to accomplish their goals. She should know—she saw those eyes in the mirror in the weeks since her attempt to bring Joshua back failed.

 

“Oh, _Harry_ ,” Artie breathed before rushing towards the boy. On reflex, she hit the button activating the cuffs before he could get more than a few steps beyond her. Like before, he pitched forward but suddenly, the electricity arced off the cuffs and hit the boy’s outstretched hand. Immediately after the arc connected, Artie’s limbs relaxed but the boy began to scream.

 

Claudia could only watch, unbelieving, as the tiny body took in a far higher voltage than it should have been capable of handling. Her thumb held the button depressed as her mind ran numbers which confirmed what she already suspected. _‘He should be dead. Oh, God—‘_ She threw the controller against the wall. She was going to be sick. Desperate or not, she didn’t want to kill anyone—that wasn’t the plan, and now, oh, God, now a _kid_ —

 

The boy fell to his knees as the current disappeared, but didn’t fall further. He shuddered as he kneeled where he had fallen. Artie stumbled across the space, far more agile than an old man should be with a belly like the one he had, even if he did spend a great deal of time chasing madcap. It was more like if he had to chase a kid around occasionally as well. Reaching the boy, Artie cupped his face with both hands. It was the only embrace he could give with his hands still cuffed. Oh, God, she had killed _Artie’s kid_ and Artie couldn’t even hold him as he died.

 

She lost the battle to keep the contents of her stomach.

 

-= LP =-

 

Mrs. Fredric was waiting for them in the Hub. Myka gave her a grin, confident that they had found the missing piece that would save Artie. As the other woman continued to just stare out the window that overlooked the Warehouse floor, Myka’s grin crumbled. Something wasn’t right. Mrs. Fredric turned to face them slowly, as if moving took a great deal of effort. Tear tracks glistened on her dark cheeks.

 

“Rheticus liked puzzles,” Myka whispered what she had been prepared to crow. It didn’t feel like a triumph anymore, not in the face of whatever had wrought an emotional response from the stoic woman. Myka forced herself to continue sharing what she and Pete had worked out from the Rheticus artifacts. “He hid clues in all his artifacts—hid _rules_. Joshua must not have had all the rules needed to replicate the experiment.”

 

“Mrs. F?”

 

“Mr. Lattimer, Ms. Bering, I will take you to Artie in a moment,” Mrs. Fredric said as evenly as normal. She looked like she was being held together by will alone. Myka had the sudden memory of Harry as he tended the shade garden at the B&B, laughing as he announced how the violets reminded him of the woman before her now. It was fitting, in a way, because violets thrived in the shadows but when exposed to full sun, tended to wilt. Mrs. Fredric looked very wilted at the moment. “I just need to prepare you—“

 

“It’s Harry, isn’t it?” Myka took a step closer, wanting— _something_ to contradict the conclusion she had just reached. The evidence didn’t lie, but Harry was just a child. He was far too young to have—

 

“No,” Pete denied. He shook his head. “No, no, _no_. It’s not true. It can’t be—I would have felt it.”

 

“Regardless of your personal feelings, Mr. Lattimer—“

 

“You’re _wrong_. Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong. Do you understand? You’re _wrong_!”

 

“Pete—“

 

“No, Myks,” Pete snapped. “It _can’t_.”

 

Like an open book, Pete’s face spoke of his conflict. It was listening to him talk about why he always acted on his vibes all over again. He worked so hard to get on with Harry who seemed just as intent to keep him at a distance. They had only just started bonding just a week or so before this last mission—over food, of course, because it’s _Pete_. Pete brought Harry scones, savory ones of some really weird combination, from the local bakery, and Harry had stared at him before jumping at him in an uncharacteristically enthusiastic hug. It had been the first embrace that they had seen Harry initiate completely on his own since arriving with his response to Myka’s unnecessary protection at their initial meeting being the only possible challenger—not that Myka counted it as she was certain that if she hadn’t pulled him against her, he wouldn’t have wrapped an arm around her. Pete never mentioned just how much Harry avoiding him bothered him, but Myka knew it did by how careful Pete was around the boy, letting him be the one in charge of their interactions and always backing off if Harry gave the slightest indication of being uncomfortable. Myka had also seen Pete whispering with Leena several times and their expressions meant they probably weren’t talking about their next rendezvous. Looking into Pete’s eyes, Myka knew he wanted to believe what he was saying over what Mrs. Frederic was telling them. Not knowing how his vibes worked, Myka couldn’t validate either claim, couldn’t reassure him that Harry was coming back to them.

 

“It can’t,” he begged. His eyes darted between her and Mrs. Fredric. The black woman had managed to pull herself together enough that the tear tracks were drying. Her eyes still looked like burning coals.

 

“I realize that there are many things you are still learning,” Mrs. Fredric offered as a peace offering. She held up a hand briefly before returning it to her side. “There’s not much time so I need you to listen for a moment without the emotional overreaction, Mr. Lattimer. Let me explain exactly why this is _my_ bailiwick. While the Warehouse is not sentient in the way that you or I, it is alive and at least limitedly self-aware. It is capable of developing attachments and preferences, even if it only meets an individual through indirect contact. The Warehouse chooses its staff as much as policy and necessity do. To specific individuals, the Warehouse has both the ability and inclination to communicate. A part of this functionality comes from the Warehouse’s connection with its current Caretaker—its active voice and face, if you will. In exchange for sharing whatever has made the Warehouse endure through the centuries, the Caretaker serves the Warehouse.”

 

“The Warehouse likes Harry—Artie gripes about it a lot,” Myka observed at the same time that Pete spoke.

 

“Harry calls the Warehouse _she_.”

 

“While it is not always the case, the Warehouse has historically shown a preference for female Caretakers. There is no insignificant amount of bleed over between Caretaker and Warehouse. This does work in reverse as well. The Warehouse cares very deeply for young Harry and has since their first indirect interaction. It was the Warehouse who told me to visit Harry at his former guardians’ as much as it was Artie. The Warehouse has jealously protected Harry since his arrival here…including informing me that Harry had been very badly injured earlier and will be more hurt if help does not arrive quickly. Now, do you have all that you need?”

 

“Yeah,” Pete answered, chastised but no longer on the verge of crying. He shifted his posture from loose to something resembling parade rest. “Let’s go bring our boys home.”

 

-= LP =-

 

“Harry, _Harry_! You have to answer me, kid,” Artie said, trying not to shake the boy but _needing_ a response from him. Harry could be so stubborn, so smart-alecky, but right at that moment, Artie would have traded the entire Warehouse to get him back, for him to make a sassy little comment. He was breathing, in a stilted sort of way, but he was still breathing. Now Artie just needed him to _respond_.

 

“Ow,” the boy muttered, and Artie absolutely was not about cry in relief. He did place a kiss upon his forehead before turning his head so that his cheek rested upon Harry’s wild curls. A feeling like a cross between sucking and tingling rolled over his skin. Harry jolted in Artie’s restricted hold. “Oh! We have to—Artie, her brother is alive but trapped. She did something—something really, really stupid because you can’t just replace an artifact with its physical components—there’s, oh, what do you call it? There’s the bits they acquire from their creators. As if raw specimens of pyrite and quartz could replace a created device in the first place.”

 

Harry struggled to stand, but his limbs kept spasming out of his control. Artie pulled him back down, restraining him as best as he was able with his hands cuffed. The boy managed to fight his way to his feet. Immediately, he took to rearranging the supplies scattered across the available flat surfaces of the lab. All the while he kept talking, fast and with a slur around the edges of his words. Clearly the spasms were not limited to his limbs.

 

If Artie felt as achy and tired as he did after a channeling the electricity from the cuffs when it had been tailored to roughly the correct resistance, how must Harry feel when it would have done so much more damage? He knew that Harry’s necklace healed him of a great variety of things, but for the first time, Artie recognized just how powerful the artifact must be. The knowledge caused an icy finger to trickle down his spine. Artifacts always extracted some kind of price for their power.

 

“Donovan’s experiment was always doomed because the little idiot had no bloody clue what Rheticus’ Compass really was. It was successful enough to destabilize the—curtain? wall? I can’t think very clearly, but it’s unstable and it’s now sucking energy from you and Donovan to power the—for fuck’s sake, Donovan, do you have to snivel so fucking loudly? I really don’t have the time or inclination to deal with your issues right now. You were stupid and reckless and we can deal with all that _after_ we solve the problem at hand.”

 

“Language, Harry,” Artie corrected out of habit. He received a glare worthy of Mrs. Fredric in return before Harry resolutely began to mess with the capacitors in the room. Artie hurried after him. His heart couldn’t handle watching Harry receive any more shocks at the moment. Unfortunately, his hands were still bound by the augmented handcuffs. Spotting them, Harry scowled, far angrier than Artie had ever seen him. Not even being baptized by neutralizer refuse that had stained him an ugly shade of brownish-purple had made Harry this angry. The boy was remarkably tolerable of so much, and while quick with sarcastic quips, Harry rarely complained about things. Harry’s hand shook as he placed it on the chain connecting the cuffs. A quiet snick announced the cuffs unlocking. They fell to the ground with a clatter.

 

“Sorry, sir,” Harry muttered, turning back to the pyrite specimens in their vials. Pain flared within Artie, bright and sharp. Harry hadn’t used that subservient tone with him since shortly after he had come to the Warehouse. Artie _hated_ that attitude. It wasn’t _Harry_ , not the boy who loved cookies and herbal tea and could never get enough of the Warehouse or the gardens of the B&B. That attitude belonged to the boy who would have a panic attack at the sight of cupcakes and made no sound if he broke a bone—the boy who still crawled into Artie’s bed at least once a week because the night was the only time he was really brave enough to seek the comfort others just automatically gave away. This was the mouse created by the Dursleys and Artie would make Claudia pay for bringing it back to the surface.

 

The tingling feeling grew stronger, impossible to ignore. His vision blurred as he slipped away to the darkened room that held the hazy memories that had been haunting him for almost two months. A younger Claudia begged him to stop her brother’s cascading failure of an experiment. She was older than she was the first time they had met—when she had identified the music box as the source of the kinetic ability that had corrupted her sister and cost the elder Donovans their lives. Their eyes may have been different colors, but Artie recognized Harry in the depths of Claudia’s eyes in that moment between moments. That was the expression his boy had worn in their first meeting as he tossed him an apple and commanded Artie not to follow him. God, they were both just children—children whose lives had been shaped by artifacts that stole so much from them. He couldn’t walk away anymore, couldn’t prioritize just the artifacts and leave the people, _the children_ , to suffer alone.

 

“Does that happen a lot?” Claudia asked as Joshua’s lab reappeared as it presently was rather than how it had been in the past. She was standing beside the mark on the floor from Joshua’s attempt at teleporting. Her arms were crossed and the fingers of her left hand beat an impatient rhythm on one of them. Harry gave a grunting scoff as he worked. Artie didn’t have a clue where he had gotten the golden-colored wire he was wrapping around the coils of the super-capacitor. “Either way, you might want to stop your boy-wonder before he destroys the genny—which we need, by the way, if we’re going to save Joshua. I’d do it, but I’m apparently stuck.”

 

“Stuck? What do you mean _stuck_?”

 

“Oh, your _pet_ waved his fucking hand and suddenly I couldn’t move from this spot. It would be freakin’ awesome, if he wasn’t messing around with delicate equipment while looking like a zombie waiting to happen. Even I don’t jam for answers that hard. There’s burnt out and then there’s burnt up. Kid should be dead already. Least he could do is take a freaking break while the adults handled the problem.”

 

“Donovan, don’t talk,” Harry grumped. “You do not get to lecture anyone on working beyond their capacity when you’ve stupidly linked not just your pranic energy but Artie’s to a device currently in another dimension. So shut your gob already. Some of us are trying to save the idiots in the room. Since you’re the idiot, please don’t distract me.”

 

“Do you even hear yourself? Pranic energy? Who talks like that? You’re _seven_. Shouldn’t you be going down for a nap?”

 

“Artie, make her be quiet,” Harry begged, seeming to ignore the woman otherwise. Claudia was right about one thing. Harry did sound extremely tired and must be close to full exhaustion if he wasn’t putting up a fuss about someone getting his age wrong. As Artie watched, the boy swayed, like he was about to pass out. His fingers trembled against the metal he had worked. Artie fought the urge to make him rest, knowing that insisting would only upset Harry more. Artifacts tended to react stronger whenever Harry was upset in their proximity, even more than they normally did to just his presence. “I’d make her sleep, but I have a feeling that we may need her awake in order to finish this. It needs to be finished—your displacements are growing in both frequency and length. I can’t—She started this, Artie. Whatever she did that destabilized the barrier, it’s pulling you and her in as well. It needs to end and this is the place. Whatever it is, it’s stronger here.”

 

“This is where it started—“

 

“ _Thank_ you, peanut gallery.”

 

“Geez, professor, where did you dig up the _brat_?”

 

“ARTIE!” yelled two voices as the doors burst open. Myka and Pete spilled into the room like they were drunk. Artie knew they couldn’t be—at the very least, Pete would never risk his Coin. They looked like they had fought their way through a storm in order to get here. Myka moved carefully over to him while Pete made a beeline to Harry’s side. The nine-year-old squeaked as the former Marine hugged him.

 

“Joshua didn’t have all the rules,” Myka whispered frantically to him. The tingling began anew. Now that he understood what was powering the gap, Artie could recognize what the accompanying sucking must be doing. Harry was right, as he often was about how artifacts worked beyond simply _liking_ him: it was sucking his life away with every episode and those episodes were getting closer together. Harry shouldn’t have known about the blackouts but of course Harry would notice something that affected the aura of anyone around him. “Rheticus hid rules both on and _inside_ his devices. There must be a rule hidden in the Compass. Where is the Compass? Is it here in the lab?”

 

“Joshua has it. It disappeared with him.” The room wasn’t dissolving this time. Instead, something was flickering around the room, distorted and jerky like something out of a horror film. Harry was scrabbling away from Pete to the super-capacitor he had rigged earlier with the wire. Artie needed the Compass; and Joshua had it. Claudia had somehow managed to connect both herself and Artie to the Compass. “I know what to do—Harry, release Claudia, please.”

 

For a moment, Harry looked like he was going to refuse. His green eyes flared with the sparks of his anger. A wave of dizziness hit Artie and he felt a trickle of something hit his top lip. Harry looked like he was going to be sick, but he waved his left hand at Claudia who stumbled forward from the suddenness of her release. Artie grabbed her before flipping the power switch on the generator connected to the augmented capacitor and moving into the marked circle on the floor.

 

“NO!” Harry screamed. The sound of it broke Artie’s heart, but Harry had been right. This had to end, and time was running out. It was risky, going into the same pocket dimension that currently held Joshua. He didn’t know for certain that he would have all the information he would need even if he managed to find the secret compartment on the Compass. Artie still didn’t fully understand what was going on, but he trusted Harry’s innate understanding of artifacts. “Don’t— _please_ , Artie, I can get him out. I can fix whatever it was that she broke. Please don’t do this.”

 

The flickering image stabilized into a distinctive if ghostly figure that was painfully familiar. Artie didn’t need Claudia’s happy murmur to identify the young man he had failed to save. His eyes flicked to Harry who stood at the edge of the energy barrier that now surrounded the circle. The boy had both his hands pressed against it as if trying to reach through it. His eyes were wide and for the first time, Artie could see tears falling from them. Resolutely, Artie turned to face Joshua, holding out his free hand.

 

“Take my hand, Joshua,” Artie commanded. Harry screamed again, wordless in his anguish, as Joshua obeyed. It was the last thing he heard before the world turned dark around him.

 

-= LP =-

 

Everything hurt. He felt drained from it, even with his mother’s necklace healing the damage caused by the electricity he had pulled from the cuffs. His brain still raced through the available information, predicting each potential outcome of what had just happened. Artie was gone, and as time slipped by without any sign the small group would be coming back, Harry knew that it wasn’t going to happen. How many times had he been told that artifacts were dangerous? That hunting them was even more so? Artie had lasted thirty-five years on a job where most agents lasted five at the outside. Honestly, it had never been a question of _if_ something was going to happen to Artie. Harry had over a year to prepare for this moment. He had contingency plans, ones that he knew he would have to use because there was no way that Leena would welcome him back to the B &B after what had happened and he couldn’t just stay in Artie’s apartment because the Warehouse would need a new Custodian eventually. It may have been the closest Harry had to a home, but it wouldn’t be the same without Artie’s grumbling about milk and juice being better for kids than tea.

 

With that thought, it hit him that everything he had hidden over the last year was now in the open. They knew more about what his freakishness could do. Harry couldn’t breathe. This was bigger than sensing people’s presences or understanding how artifacts worked without a lot of experience. This was more than learning quickly or being attractive to artifacts. This wasn’t the mildly oddball things that made a person acceptable as a Warehouse agent or the quirkiness that got a person hired in Eureka. These were things that qualified people for the various alpha programs around the world, and in his visits to the Doctor, he had met more than one alpha and their handlers. The handlers were all like the lemon man who told the other robe-wearers to return him to the Dursleys whenever he ran away. The room swam before his eyes as he struggled to breathe through the rising panic.

 

“Harry, answer me, man,” Pete demanded, sounding distant and worried. Harry blinked. Someone was holding him but it couldn’t be Pete because Pete was crouched too far away to be the arms holding him. It took longer to recognize the feel of downy feather than it should have. His brain had been racing earlier from all the electrical and magic coursing through him. Now he felt slow and stupid and so very small. Even protectively wrapped in Myka’s presence didn’t make the terror and pain go away. As comforting as her larkspur scent was usually, right now all he wanted was Artie’s chamomile and mint mixture. “Harry?”

 

“How—how long?”

 

“Only about three minutes,” Myka answered. Harry blinked at her and raised an eyebrow. She frowned at him but gave the other possible answer. “Almost ten now. The barrier came down about a minute and a half ago.”

 

“Mrs. Frederic?”

 

“She left immediately after dropping us off. Something about needing to check on the Warehouse and Leena.” Harry winced at Myka’s dry tone. So Myka knew about the danger he had put Leena in before leaving to come here. That meant that Pete probably knew, too, which meant that things would probably sour there as well. He may be young, but he wasn’t blind to how much energy the innkeeper and the agent had been exchanging since Pete’s arrival. He knew that meant they were shagging each other or at least vamping each other.

 

Harry’s heart felt like a stone in his chest, cold and heavy. They might have fought against sending Harry to an alpha program, but if they thought he was dangerous—there was no hope for it. He had to leave and he had to do it before Mrs. Frederic returned. She had to have felt Artie’s loss, because the Warehouse was almost as closely connected to her Custodian as she was to her Caretaker. She must still be trying to keep information from the Caretaker for him. The Warehouse _liked_ Harry and he would miss her. Maybe someday he’d be able to return to his home within her or to the B &B. Maybe someday that idea wouldn’t be as painful as it was now.

 

Harry struggled to his feet. The spasms were gone now and even the pain had finally retreated, from everywhere except his heart. Even as powerful as the necklace was, it had never helped with grief and it would have been unreasonable to wish it to start now. He swayed slightly, far more tired than he had thought. Myka and Pete both reached out hands to steady him, but unlike Artie, did nothing to stop him from moving across the room to where he had left his messenger bag. He turned to look at them one last time.

 

“Take care of her for me?” he asked. He didn’t know if he was asking for them to take care of the Warehouse or Mrs. Frederic, but in the end, did it really matter? They were body and heart to each other, undeniably connected. Myka looked so confused but Pete looked broken.

 

“Don’t do this, Harry,” he begged, and Harry heard them as the echo they were. “Whatever it is that has you running now, we can fix it. _I_ will fix it. Just please don’t do this.”

 

“You don’t understand,” Harry countered. His eyes ached from crying, but Harry felt the threat of tears again nonetheless. The pain of everything was just too much to deal with on top of the fear. “It can’t be fixed. You can’t fix what isn’t broken, Pete, or else my necklace would have done it when my mother gave it to me. Without Artie—“ Harry choked on the words. They were too big, represented too much. The tears burned as they escaped and Pete looked just as close to crying. He pushed them out anyway. “Without Artie, I won’t be allowed to stay at the Warehouse. I’m a freak, and I’ve seen what happens to freaks—what the _Regents_ allow to happen to freaks. I can’t—I can’t let that happen. Not when Artie had finally gotten me free.”

 

“Harry, NO!” Pete shouted, seconds too late for the boy to hear. Less than a minute after that a trio of figures appeared in the center of stain on the floor in a burst of energy and light that was completely different than Harry’s quiet disappearance. Artie’s first act after returning from the interdimensional space was to look around the semi-abandoned lab. Pete knew who he was looking for—his mother always did the same when dealing with crises. Checking on their children was just what parents did. Pete still had to look away when Artie asked where Harry was. As Myka recapped what Harry had said before disappearing, he slid his hand into his pocket to finger his Coin.

 

No matter what Harry thought, Pete was going to fix this. No man got left behind, and no matter his age, Harry was one of his men.

**Author's Note:**

> Since I stuck an interesting tidbit at the end of _Apples_ , I thought that I’d share one here as well. I have a whole table dedicated to tracking the scents of characters and the meanings connected to them. None of the plants mentioned have been random.


End file.
